


Memorial Day

by oOAchilliaOo



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: After the war (and recovery) Kaidan and Shepard attend a memorial day. Kaidan didn't expect the fans, or her reaction to them.





	Memorial Day

He had no idea how she did it.

But then again, he had no idea how she did a lot of things. Like saving the entire galaxy or facing down Reapers on foot. Somehow though, those things seemed to fall within ‘normal’ parameters. Normal for Shepard, anyway. Not to diminish any of her accomplishments, but you kind of expected her to be generally excellent at kicking all kinds of ass.

This, though… this was different.

Saving galaxies and facing down Reapers required a lot of guts, anger, luck and skill. All things Shepard had in abundance. It didn’t, however, usually require a lot of patience. And that was good, because Shepard was not typically a patient person and he had the literal scars to prove it. Today however, she was patient, she was kind, and she smiled - not quite the ‘real’ smile he knew, but close enough that even he had had to look twice. And she’d been at this for hours.

Which was odd, considering that she’d almost punched the Alliance PR representative who’d originally suggested it.

There had been events like this one every year on the anniversary of the end of the war. So far, Shepard’s recovery had meant that they hadn’t been bothered by them. But now Alliance PR had decided that if she was well enough to return to duty, then she was well enough to put in an appearance at the celebrations.

Their assertion that everyone in the galaxy was simply dying to meet her seemed… odd, or if not odd, at least exaggerated. Sure, they could barely walk through Alliance HQ without half a dozen soldiers clamouring to shake her hand or utter their thanks or even ask her to autograph something but they were soldiers, an altogether different breed from the public.

However, despite his misgivings it seemed that the public were just as, if not more enamoured with her.

He could hardly blame them, stories of what she had accomplished during the war had spread, some true, some not so true but all well within her capabilities. He supposed that once you knew what she was capable of, it was hard not to be in awe of her.

The memorial organisers had cornered off a little area at the side of the plaza, a place where people could form an orderly queue and wait to meet the legendary Commander Shepard. He’d expected a steady-ish flow, new people joining the line when they saw it die down. Maybe some gaps where he’d have to go in and buck up her spirits a bit. But the queue was long, so long that he couldn’t see the end of it and that had been the case for most of the day. Each person was patiently waiting their turn as far as the eye could see.

Some came forward with tears in their eyes, shaking with excitement and nerves, greeting her in small voices. She spoke to them softly, asked their names, where they were from, and by the end they stood tall and smiling in the picture that everyone got to take with her. 

Some came with too many words, gushing over her legend, barely pausing in their praise and thanks. To those she smiled, took their praise even though he was certain that it made her uncomfortable. She even thanked them, told them that she couldn’t have done it without her crew, without them.

Some brought her drawings or sculptures or other bits of memorabilia. They brought them as gifts or sometimes just to show her, sometimes for her to sign. She delighted over every single item. Some had come in costumes, replica N7 and spectre armour. Some turians had replicated Garrus’ scar with an almost unerring accuracy. But whether the costume was well or cheaply done, she grinned and examined every detail.

And then there were the children. Some bouncy and excited, some scared and shy, some bored and dragged by more interested parents. To the best of his knowledge, Shepard wasn’t too fond of children, but today she played with them, hugged them, teased them, even came down to their level to engage with them on an equal basis. 

Veterans came too, men and women with a variety of disabilities and those she spent an extra few minutes with, even thanked them for coming, for making it through and helping her make it through.

For some people she posed, not because she enjoyed it, but because they wanted their shot to be of her pretending to shoot or punch them or because they wanted her stood in the quintessential ‘Shepard’ pose they saw on her recruitment posters (pistol raised, hip cocked, omniblade active). She even came up with new poses of her own when they were just too excited to make up their minds.

And throughout it all she smiled, laughed, hugged, played and genuinely seemed to enjoy herself, tirelessly, for hours.

He had no idea how she did it. Or why.

When he asked her about it later, she simply shrugged and said that everyone deserved hope.

(But he had a feeling that a small secret part of her enjoyed meeting her fans.)


End file.
